


Moving On

by Ficlet_Sprinkler



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-10
Updated: 2019-09-10
Packaged: 2020-10-14 03:07:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20593661
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ficlet_Sprinkler/pseuds/Ficlet_Sprinkler
Summary: a Johnlock ficlet, taking place after Season 4. Sherlock and John get into a heated argument about John's decision to marry Mary. This brings up some unresolved feelings...Everything you would have wanted out of season four; now reality. You're welcome XD





	Moving On

John burst in through 221B, already running up the stairs, with Sherlock following close behind him.

“John... I'm so sorry. About everything. I know it's all my fault... if I hadn't been there, you would still have a future, with Mary-"

“No. You don't get to be sorry!” John shouted, cutting off Sherlock's apology in the process. He stopped at the top of the stairs, and turned to look Sherlock in the eye.

“It wasn't your fault. I told you that before, you were just being... Well you were just being you!”

He burst into the flat. Sherlock quickly followed him and closed the door behind them.

“None of this is... right. You know, I never meant for all this to happen. None of this should have,” John struggled to explain.

“But... you proposed to her. You _chose her_" “Because, because you were dead, Sherlock!”

Sherlock jumped back in surprise. John didn't bother this and continued:

“And after two years... After two years without a single sign that you were alive, it was time for me to... to move on. I had to. I couldn't keep... wallowing, staring at a wall, hoping you'd somehow return.”

Sherlock paused for a moment, turning John's remark over again and again in his mind.

_It was time for me to move on. _

_Time to move on. _

_Move on._

Sherlock took a sharp intake of breath, before slowly responding:

“But I did return. I... I did all of that for you, John. I know it was a lot to ask of you to wait for two years, but...”

“YES, IT WAS" John couldn't hold it in anymore. His anger, his heartbreak; it was all too much. Sherlock couldn't bear look him in the eye anymore.

“I know,”

“And you were right, you know. It was partly your fault,” John mumbled angrily. Sherlock looked at him with bitter sweetness. He knew he was right. But hearing those words come from John's mouth still hurt.

“But,” he continued, making Sherlock look up hopefully, “You did it because you had to. And I... I had a choice. But I was never... I was never brave enough to actually tell people. Especially you. And who knows, perhaps if I would have... If I had been brave enough... None of this would have happened.”

“What are you saying, John?” Sherlock carefully asked. Although, of course, he knew exactly what. It hadn’t been hard to figure out. But he needed John to say it. Because he knew that if he was wrong, which he rarely was, his heart could easily shatter in a million pieces.

“Sherlock, I...” John couldn't bear say the words. He never had been able to. But it was now the time to finally do so. He settled his breathing, ignored his racing heart and stood up straight like a soldier.

“I love you.”

Sherlock looked at him, wide-eyed. There it was. The words he had longed to hear for so long. And all it did was bring great terror to him. John had been keeping in those feelings. For nine years. John was a man of emotion; it must have taken effort, it must have hurt.

And yet Sherlock wasn't surprised.

John read Sherlock’s face like a book.

“You knew, didn't you?”

“Well, it wasn't that hard to find out,” Sherlock smirked. John cocked his head, annoyed at his own obviousness.

“Go on then,” he sighed.

Sherlock took a deep breath, before going into his long and inhumanely fast narrative.

“I noticed it from the moment we first met. Picking up more and more hints along the way. You were in the army; therefore, you knew it would never be accepted for you to be gay. Your family didn't help you either; you saw how it turned out for your sister. This was part of the reason you and Harry do not get along, not just the drinking. I noticed this the first time I deducted your harmful relationship with her, but did not mention it in the fear that you might not take it well. But she pressured you, didn't she? She noticed your behaviour and saw herself in you. She wanted an ally; someone she could talk with about her problems. But instead, you ignored her, getting into fights because you could not help denying the absolute fact; that you like men. But I realised shortly that you obviously like women as well, I noticed you flirting with many females; girlfriends, clients, even caught you attempting to flirt with Anthea before; I would give up on that, by the way; the only person she will ever be interested in is her boyfriend she keeps texting from her blackberry. Anyhow, you like the female gender. However, it was obvious that you took interest in me as well, judging by how you lead the conversation to a topic concerning sexuality, the way you licked your lips when I told you I was single. I think it would have gone further than that, if it wasn't for you denying that you are in any way gay. That, and I was confused by your sudden interest in me, which made me reject you. Sorry about that, by the way. So, we have established that you like women, men and can conclude that you are, therefore, bisexual.”

Sherlock took a deep breath, suddenly anxious that he went too far.

“Amazing,”

“Hm?”

“That was extraordinary”

“Oh, thank you... But I think... I left something out. Another thing I found out.” John sighed. “what is it?”

The words came easily to him, like a bird finally landing after hours of flight, the final bow after a long play.

“I love you, John Watson.”

“A-are you sure?” John stammered. “I mean, you aren't... I didn't think you were... Irene Adler...”

Sherlock furrowed his brow, making his iconic and charming nose crinkle appear.

“I'm gay, John.”

All John could do now it stare. He looked from the ground to Sherlock, repeating this, his hands kneading, as he always did when he was nervous. It was after a few minutes of this, that Sherlock interrupted:

“Yeah that’s getting a bit scary now,”

John smiled, before they both erupted into giggles about the reference he had made.

But Sherlock still noticed John’s quizzical look, so he went on to explain further:

“I have loved you from the moment I met you. The moment I realised your limp could go away just by running around London with me. When I realised that you would kill a man just to protect me. Naturally, I tried to get rid of these feelings. This worked for a while. Although, the feelings never went away fully. It is an interesting fact, John Watson. I have always been able to avoid having feelings, but with you... With you, I never seemed to shake the feeling, that I... perhaps... Love you. The day we met, that was the best day of my life. For the first time, someone actually liked my talents, didn't call me a freak. I always... wished that this meant you could... love... me back. But when you started having girlfriends, even married one of them, I knew that it would never be the case... Sometimes, I felt like telling you. I actually wanted to tell you how I felt when we said our goodbyes on the tarmac. But I could not hurt you like that. So, I made a joke, to see you smile. One last time.”

There was a tear rolling down Sherlock's cheek now, and John could not help but hear Sherlock say_ “Damn, I'm having feelings”_ in his head. He smiled to himself at this, making something salty fall into his mouth. He only then noticed that he, as well, had been crying.

“I understood it, by the way. I'm not an idiot.”

“Understood what?” Sherlock asked, curious.

“Sherlock Watson.”

John stared at Sherlock accusingly, but Sherlock couldn't help but smirk.

“Not an idiot after all"

John smiled for a bit, before thinking of something and landing into a confused expression.

“But what about the first dinner we had? You still rejected me. You said you were married to your work?”

Sherlock smirked at John's question. But instead of answering it right away, he turned up his coat collar, and leaned in, pressing a kiss on John's lips. He refrained himself from melting into it just yet; instead, he separated his lips from John's and whispered:

“You're my colleague, you idiot.”

John stared at him, and Sherlock could watch his eyes, to see the exact moment the penny fell.

“Oh, you twat!” he exclaimed, after he finally understood. Sherlock looked affronted for a moment, before grinning. John couldn't help but join. He grinned, and suddenly the temptation of wanting to kiss Sherlock Holmes was overwhelming. He stood on tip toes, and placed his lips on Sherlock's. He clung onto Sherlock's collar, in an effort of keeping his balance. Sherlock closed his eyes, allowing himself to completely melt into it. He went weak in the knees, for he had never been kissed this way before. John was desperately clinging onto Sherlock, only stopping their kiss for a few moments to catch their breath, before finding each other once again. They melted together, their lips finding their way, perfectly fitting into each other like two puzzle pieces.

After the kiss that both of them had longed for so many years, they looked each other in the eyes, each finding out details they had never noticed before.

“I think I want to spend my life with you,” John said, using only his expression. Sherlock pressed his forehead against John's, and whispered the answer to the look he saw his soulmate give.

“Me too.”


End file.
